


Blue Paint

by TheMockingCrows



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M, body painting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-03
Updated: 2013-02-03
Packaged: 2017-11-28 03:02:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/669532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMockingCrows/pseuds/TheMockingCrows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Painting is so much more fun when your lover is the canvas and the brush is your hands.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>This is an older piece, but I got a request to transfer it to AO3.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blue Paint

The paint was brightly colored, blue to match his eyes. Blue to accent the warm tan of the flesh that dipped beneath his fingers as he spread it around. Blue because the canvas that was his boyfriend was to become was begging for it.

It had been quite some time since Dave had been moved enough, interested enough, to do anything in traditional media. Or, as traditional as body paint could be considered. Even longer since he’d been able to get John to agree to an open ended request such as “Hey, are you free Friday night, I wanted to do a thing.”

They’d spread out a tarp on the floor, Dave opening various cans of the body paint to have access to the entire rainbow at any given time. It would help if the mood struck him away from the blue he intended to use.

Not likely.

He needed to blue, and he needed it now, removing his shirt and telling John to strip down if he didn’t want to stain his stuff, hands stuffing themselves into the canister to coat them with the chilly substance.

It was glossy and thick, smooth, water leaving a visible trail as it trailed down to his elbows. It felt foreign on his skin. It felt right. When John removed the shirt and flashed those broad shoulders, the chest, the faint muffin top of stubborn weight that never seemed to come off, Dave couldn’t help but damn near attack him.

Handprints and streaks from his fingers, coating the center and fanning outward. Making waves. Feathers. Wings. Staining that skin he loved even darker as he pushed him to lay back. The lines needed to be broader. Narrower. Curved. Straight.

He needed every line he could imagine to somehow become a mosaic on his boyfriends body.

“Dave, come on, turn the heater up it’s freezing in here!”

“Can’t. Wet hands.”

“Obviously. Here, let me up and I’ll turn it on.”

“Can’t. Busy.”

“For fucks sake, move your skinny ass so I can reach. I can just about brush it with my toes.”

Dave wasn’t listening. He was in a trance, seeing the patterns emerge on flesh, whorls following the drag of his ribs. When his hands dried, he dunked them again to darken the shade, dragging them down the wide stomach in front of his own thighs, rocking back a bit to reach. Damn it, there wasn’t enough room, the design needed to stretch.

The pants had to go.

“HEY! Man, that’s gonna stain! Way to go, Dave, you owe me pants!” John yelled as those slick hands fastened on the zipper and button, slipping them free to wrestle them downward and off

“Can replace them, just pants.”

“They were brand new..”

“Twenty bucks.”

“What if I said these were name brand?”

“Thirty bucks,” he rasped as they finally came clear and were thrown to the edge of the tarp, paint covered hands trailing down his thighs, mapping more of the pattern he saw taking shape. John bit his lip and shivered at the chill from the air hitting the paint, cold liquid touching warm skin. Nearly moaned from the intensity of his lovers stare as he delicately painted dots and lines as though he were the finest of masterpieces.

Soon, from his head to his feet, John was painted into a blue henna, painting as intricate as a song, original as the stars. Dave’s mind had poured out and covered him. Marked him. The idea that he was basically wearing the blondes imagination somehow struck him as beautiful.

It was made more beautiful with each passing layer he applied to his back. More beautiful when Dave shucked his pants to get closer to his art, wanting to feel the marks he’d made more intimately, wanting to let John paint him as well. Even more beautiful when they were showering their joint blue mess off in the morning, checking each other over for missed spots of color pigment, making out whenever one paused for too long in one spot.

**Author's Note:**

> original tumblr post- http://themockingcrows.tumblr.com/post/33948065804/anonymous-asked-you-idk-if-your-still-doing


End file.
